


a fever i am learning to live with

by Legendaerie



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Sex, Catboys & Catgirls, M/M, Magic Made Them Do It, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:28:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26875198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Legendaerie/pseuds/Legendaerie
Summary: Dressed in plainclothes, Sylvain’s body doesn’t clank satisfyingly against the wall when he’s pinned. He doesn’t even seem to care; wide brown eyes flick back and forth over Felix’s head, taking in the black-furred ears newly sprouted there.“Hoooooly shit,” he says, eyebrows climbing in time with the corners of his mouth. He looks like he’s about to burst out laughing.—Felix is hit with a very interesting spell on the battlefield. Sylvain helps.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 29
Kudos: 423





	a fever i am learning to live with

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lightbenderlin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightbenderlin/gifts).



> this has been in my drafts since April, under the working title “my crimes are uncountable” and I figured I could get it out with one last push if I busted ass.
> 
> Inspired by @INGseven’s numerous, beautiful illustrations of catboy!Felix getting railed by Sylvain.
> 
> Anyway. I’m sorry and also maybe you’re welcome? Mind the tags but also know I can’t do porn WITHOUT both characters caring for each other.
> 
> HAPPY BIRTHDAY VICKY!

When a knock rings out on Felix’s door, he knows who it is without opening it. He heard them coming up the stairs, the steady tap of boots and the occasional huff of breath; heard them with the aid of a set of large, triangular ears sprouting from his hair just a little bit above his own. And when he opens the door and yanks them inside, he smells them too; and the feverish heat in his gut only worsens.

Shit.

“Sylvain,” Felix growls, slamming the door behind him. “Who else knows?”

Dressed in plainclothes, Sylvain’s body doesn’t clank satisfyingly against the wall when he’s pinned. He doesn’t even seem to care; wide brown eyes flick back and forth over Felix’s head, taking in the black-furred ears newly sprouted there. 

“Hoooooly shit,” he says, eyebrows climbing in time with the corners of his mouth. He looks like he’s about to burst out laughing.

Felix shoves him against the wall again. “ _Sylvain!_ Who else knows?!”

“No one.” He rallies better than most people would expect, even while pinned to Felix’s bedroom wall, and sobers up. “I weaseled it out of Linhardt on his way to a nap. He’s out cold by now. You all right?”

Felix growls - actually, literally growls - and glares up at him. “What do _you_ think?” he asks, daring Sylvain to say anything of the cat-like ears he’s currently pinning against the crown of his skull or the long black tail fluffing out with rage at the base of his spine.

Sylvain laughs softly through his nose. “All right, all right,” and he runs a hand over Felix’s scalp, ruffling his hair, and starts to ask a question.

One that never makes it out because the moment Sylvain’s hand touches him, Felix’s eyes flutter closed and he mewls like an overacting whore.

The moment hangs charged between them.

Then Felix shoves his face into Sylvain’s shoulder where no one can see him and seethes there for a long minute. And as he so often does, Sylvain stands there and takes it.

Felix lets out a heavy, furious sigh. More like a hiss than anything.

“What do you need?” asks Sylvain.

“Nothing,” snaps Felix, spitting out the lie without moving from where they stand, forehead still pressed against Sylvain’s shoulder, his entire body trembling all the way down to his lashing tail. “I don’t need annny—“

Against his will, his sentence melts into a yowl. He claps a hand over his mouth to stifle it. He’d probably blush if his entire body hadn’t been on fire for almost a full day.

“Okay,” Sylvain agrees, voice low and careful. “What would you _like_?”

“I’d like to turn that Empire mage inside out and—“ another moan, another desperate muffled call. 

Goddess, this is shameful. 

“Why are you here?” Felix growls, tail flicking back and forth, head tilting as he nuzzles the side of Sylvain’s neck before he can stop himself. “I told the Professor I was fine.”

“Yeah, and you lied.”

“I didn’t.”

“Oh, really? So you’re fine if I do—“ and he strokes a hand up Felix’s back, under his shirt and along burning, hypersensitive skin, and Felix breaks. He gasps and wails, body rolling and arching as he grinds his hips once, twice against Sylvain’s thigh before he can wrestle his body back under control.

With his newly heightened hearing, he can hear Sylvain’s pulse skyrocket.

“Don’t say a word,” he snarls, an animalistic rumble of pure fury thrumming through his tone. 

It’s the hardest thing in his life to tear away from Sylvain, staggering across his bedroom to stare out the window, magically sharpened fingernails digging into the sill. It’s torture to keep his distance, but he refuses to give in to this artificial, bestial heat. He’s better than it.

He hears footsteps behind him, one, two— he growls, a hiss spitting out of his mouth, and the steps freeze.

“You’re in pain,” Sylvain says gently.

He sounds so concerned. It’s not like him to drop that cavalier mask. Of course it’d be over something as _stupid_ as this.

Felix steadies his breathing, with effort. “I can handle it.”

“You don’t have to, though. I don’t have to be Hanneman to guess what would help.” He takes another step closer, but stops of his own volition.

The windowsill creaks under Felix’s clawed grip. “Go away.”

“It’s just sex, Felix. I’ll—“ Felix hates that he can hear Sylvain swallow, hates how the muffled wet noise of his throat makes his already aching cock twitch, “I’ll get someone who won’t hurt you. Who do you want? Dimitri?”

“Absolutely n—not.” He can hardly think of anyone worse for this situation. The boar prince, even now, is incapable of being tactful.

“Annette?”

Okay. That would be worse. “You so much as _breathe_ to her what I look like now—“

“Fine, fine.” Sylvain’s voice breaks in a bitter laugh. “Uh… Dorothea.”

He’s nervous. Felix can smell the sweat on his skin. It’s better than him laughing, but there’s still an imbalance of power between them. Sylvain isn’t cursed with an animalistic ache that’s threatening to drive him insane with—

Want. Not need. He won't let himself need anyone. 

Felix’s tail lashes from side to side. “Why her?”

“I’ve… seen you talk once or twice, and she’s, you know,” another swallow, “very pretty. Uh. Ashe?”

“No, and no.”

Sylvain sighs. “All right. Tell me who you want, and I’ll go get them for you.”

The mask is back on. His words are careful, blotted dry and paper thin like a new treatice.

“Why.” Talking is difficult, worsening with each moment Sylvain stands in his room. Of all the people to be here, it had to be the man Felix clung so tightly to in his younger years. To this day, he has a weakness for him. No one else would have made it in the door.

Another dry, snorted laugh. “Twenty years we’ve known each other,” Sylvain marvels, “and you still ask me why I care about you.”

The explicit reminder that they’re friends, despite growing up to be such twisted broken versions of their childhood selves makes Felix’s heart ache. And in that moment, closing his eyes, he makes a decision.

_Tell me who you want._

“Sit down,” Felix grits out, pointing towards the bed. “If you want to help.”

Step, step, step, and the soft rustle of Felix’s mattress. Obedient, and loyal. To Felix of all people.

He eases his claws out of the wooden sill and stalks his way across the floor, crawling into Sylvain’s lap. To his credit, Sylvain doesn’t say anything, just lets Felix straddle one of his thighs as he presses his face into the side of Sylvain’s neck.

“We’re not going to have sex,” Felix insists, no heart behind his words but furious, self-hatred fueled heat, “but— would you—“

“Anything.”

Dangerous words. Even more dangerous if he means them. “Touch me again.”

This time, the hand that reaches inside his loose shirt is gentle; not trying to prove a point but to soothe, calluses stroking along tender, burning flesh. It’s so much better than anything Felix has ever felt; so much worse at the same time. He feels something bubbling up his chest and out of his throat, but he can’t think about anything anymore.

“There you go,” Sylvain says, his voice dropping. “I’ve got you.”

Felix nuzzles the side of Sylvain’s neck and keens in agreement. If it was to be anyone here, seeing him in this state, it had to be—

“You.”

“Hm?”

Up and down his back, slow and steady as waves in the ocean too far back to break on the shore, deep and even movement rocking his body to the core.

“It’s not just sex,” Felix hears himself say, voice incredibly calm considering his own desperately fast pulse. “It’d— it’d be so much more intense.”

Sylvain clicks his tongue. “Sounds even worse to try to bear alone.”

“I’ll be fine.” His response is immediate, a reflex as his mind buzzes with pleasure. “I can take it.”

Sylvain’s touch is soothing - it doesn’t extinguish the flame in Felix’s blood, but it turns it from a wildfire into an oven, something steady and controllable.

He sighs into Sylvain’s neck, voice rumbling on the way out. Shit. He’s _purring._

“I hate this,” he murmurs. Then he hears Sylvain take in a breath, and he adds, “if you call it cute, I’ll kill you.”

“Thanks for the warning, but not what I was gonna say.”

Unconsciously, Felix shifts a little closer, drawn in by the heat of Sylvain’s body. “What.”

“I’m sorry. This… probably isn’t fun to be stuck with. So if I can help, I’ll sit here and— pet you as long as you need—“

“I don’t _need_ ,” Felix growls. “This is just a spell. It’s not going to—“

“Okay, okay. As long as you _want_ ,” Sylvain amends, reaching up to scratch along one ear. Felix leans into the touch, eyes fluttering closed. “That helps?”

“No. Maybe. I don’t—“ Sylvain’s other hand is resting in the small of Felix’s back and it’s incredibly distracting. “I don’t know what’s helping, just what… feels better. Could be making things worse for all I know.”

Sylvain chuckles. “I don’t think it works like that.”

“How much do _you_ know about spells like this?” Felix snaps. There’s a faint breeze behind him; oh, god, his tail is lashing. Another laugh confirms this. “Shut up.”

“All right, all right. Just saying, not _everything_ that feels good is bad for you.”

He goes back to stroking Felix’s back, and Felix starts to melt. Slowly, he lets his legs relax until he’s seated on Sylvain’s thigh. When he does, his knee slides up the mattress until it rests against Sylvain’s groin.

If he didn’t have his large, sensitive cat ears, Felix wouldn’t have heard the soft inhale Sylvain sucks sharply through his nose. But he does, so he notices, and he freezes in Sylvain’s lap.

Sylvain is getting hard.

They’ve known each other for long enough that Felix has seen Sylvain’s cock more than once; they’ve shared beds and bathrooms, stumbled around each other in various stages of undress. He’s even seen Sylvain’s erection under clothes on the training ground as Sylvain excused himself from a hand to hand match with a perfectly calm expression. But in this context, when Felix is already in pain from how badly he needs someone else’s body against his, it’s a thunderbolt of revelation.

Felix wants Sylvain, and right now Sylvain wants Felix too.

“Felix?”

Sylvain sounds so unaffected. So reasonable. He’s so much better at hiding his emotions than Felix is. He doesn’t have to shut everything down and go cold, he can just pretend whatever he’s feeling isn’t there and few people are the wiser. 

“It’s not fair,” Felix growls, unable to help how his hips start to roll ever so slowly against Sylvain’s thigh. “You’re so— normal.”

Sylvain hums, a little noise that starts cheerful but ends up ragged on the way out when Felix grinds against him again. “Oh, you know, just lots of practice keeping calm and carrying on.”

He’s like the rocks along the Rhodos coast, warm in the sun and immovable as the waves break against them, worn down so slowly as to only be noticed by years of distance.

Maybe now is the right time to break his composure, too.

“You like this,” he says, nuzzling Sylvain’s jawline with intent this time. “Right?”

This groan is a little more audible. “I— I’m trying not to.”

“Because of what I said?”

The hands that had been stroking Felix’s torso are clinging to him now. “Yeah.”

“What if—“ he bites his lip and for once pushes past the hot rush of shame, “what if I changed my mind? What if it helped for— you to touch me?”

Sylvain makes a sound in his throat that Felix doesn’t think he’s ever heard him make - finally, an even playing field - and then Felix finds himself slammed on his back on the mattress with Sylvain on top of him, pinning his hands to either side of his head.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his eyes wild and his grip tight on Felix’s wrists.

What a stupid question. “Of course I’m not sure,” Felix snaps even as his body writhes underneath Sylvain’s, fighting desperately for contact and relief, “it’s a magic spell that not even our Professor could remove. I have no idea if this would help, but—“

He’s not sure why he bites his lip, but the way Sylvain’s eyes jump down to his mouth and dilate tell him it was the right thing to do. 

_Tell me who you want._

“If anyone has to fuck this out of me,” Felix confesses, “I’d rather it be you.”

There. It’s out. He’ll never be able to take those words back. They’ll haunt every interaction between Felix and Sylvain now. With a huff, he tears his eyes away to stare at the wall, tail curling between his legs and his torso still heaving with every uneven breath. Ridiculous.

It’s because of this that the first kiss lands on his cheek. 

Felix goes rigid at the contact, a wave of heat and excitement climbing his body to burn his cheeks red. “Wh—“ he starts, turning his head back and immediately muffled by another kiss. A third follows and he remembers to reciprocate this time, arching his back off the bed to chase Sylvain’s mouth.

When he opens his eyes, Sylvain is grinning down at him. He slides Felix’s arms up above his head and grabs both wrists with one hand; something that Felix could easily break out of, but in this moment effectively paralyzes him below Sylvain.

“If you need me to fuck you, Fraldarius,” he says slowly, enunciating Felix’s family name with the utmost care. “If you want me to breed you like a broodmare in heat,” he drags his free hand down Felix’s chest, flicking open the buttons as he goes. “I’ll be more than willing to do that for you.”

Several blasphemous phrases bubble and die in Felix’s mouth as Sylvain presses the heel of his hand against Felix’s still-clothed cock - all that comes out is a caterwaul as his eyes roll back in his head. Trust Sylvain to say such filthy things, and trust Felix to be too out of his mind to scold him for it.

It’s hard to properly rub himself against Sylvain’s hand like this, when he’s splayed out and bound like this. He manages as best as he can, unable to choke back the little mewls and whines as he does, undulating in Sylvain’s grip. The hand on his wrist feels like it’s anchoring him to reality, balancing out the surreal levels of pleasure that wrack through his body with every centimeter of stimulation given to his cock.

“It’s a lot,” he slurs.

“Too much?” Sylvain asks. Felix shakes his head, cracking an eye. Above him, Sylvain is looking pretty flushed himself, a tongue darting out to wet his lips as he watches Felix’s hips roll against his hand.

“It’s good,” he says. “Less sure about the—“ words fail him for a moment. “You call me a broodmare outside of this room and I’ll decapitate you.”

Sylvain chuckles. “Ah, you’re still in there, huh?” 

“I’m still myself, yes.” Just with some unasked for additional body parts and a feverish want simmering under his skin.

“Good. Because of all the people I could have done this for,” and he leans in to press a kiss along Felix’s jaw, slipping his hands inside Felix’s pants as he does. The rest of Sylvain’s words are lost in Felix’s gasp and shudder.

It’s not that he’s _never_ had— sexual interactions before. He’s had _some_ . Not a lot. And they weren’t that good anyway, they were _fine_ and he didn’t really mind doing them or having them done to him. But he was busy with school, and now there’s a war going on so he hasn’t had the time or inclination to be with anyone.

That could only account for maybe a fifth of how intensely, shockingly _good_ it feels to have another person’s hand on his cock. He can’t breathe for a moment; the air gets caught in his chest, trying to go both ways at once. When he does get his act together, the sound he makes is one he’s seldom heard a human being make.

Might have heard a cat make it, once.

“Kill me,” Felix whines as Sylvain strokes his cock with a firm, entirely too skilled hand. “Fucking— kill me.”

“That good, huh?” There’s a sharpness scraping along Felix’s jaw; it takes him a second to realize it’s Sylvain’s teeth, and he’s never wanted to have someone bite him before. Hopefully that’s the magic too, and it will be gone by the time he has to look at Sylvain’s mouth again in any other context.

In the moment, Felix tilts his head back, baring his throat and moaning again as Sylvain’s hand keeps moving. He can feel the callouses catch every so often, rough and unyielding; when Sylvain lets go he could cry, and he thrashes against the hand holding his wrists for the first time.

“Easy, easy, I’m not leaving you,” Sylvain soothes him, yanking Felix’s clothes down further, baring hot skin to a cool room and smoothing down the goosebumps that raise in the chill. “Gonna blow your fucking mind.”

Felix’s hands are released in favor of being stripped more efficiently. He goes pliant, letting himself be manhandled, chest heaving all the while. Sylvain curses under his breath as he slides Felix’s pants and smallclothes down his legs.

“You’re so—“

Again Sylvain cuts himself off with a kiss, this one pressed to Felix’s hip bone, and rolls his eyes up to look at Felix.

“Mind if I suck your dick?” he asks, casual and unaffected except for those eyes. Felix is impaled by those eyes, pinned and helpless like a butterfly on display.

He loves it.

“Hhhhgggnn,” Felix says, taking in a deep breath that tastes of sweat and sex. “Yes. I— do it. I want it.”

The grin that crosses Sylvain’s face is as feral as Felix has felt since this all started. Holding eye contact, he licks a broad stripe up Felix’s cock that makes Felix see stars. He sinks his sharp-nailed hands into his bed, gasping, head snapping back as he takes in his ceiling with wide eyes.

_By the bones of the Saints._

Sylvain’s tongue has always been one of his better features. The man has been good with his mouth his entire life, easy with words and easier with smiles even when they were children. And maybe a few times he’d watched— he’d wondered— he’d wanted as Sylvain had led some blushing, eager woman to his quarters and he’d heard her cries of pleasure in the middle of the night. But on those nights he’d bury his thoughts or burn them out with training.

Now, gasping high in his throat as his nerves light up under those deft strokes, Felix knows why girls let themselves be bedded by him. Sylvain’s mouth envelops Felix’s cock, hot and smooth and slick in ways that defy comparison. He was right. He doesn’t want to have been right. It’s too much and woefully not enough all at once.

Felix claps a hand over his mouth as his hips fight to buck up into Sylvain’s mouth. Sylvain’s free hand is anchoring him in place, his palm pressing down on Felix’s hipbone and his thumb absently stroking the skin there as his mouth and other hand work Felix’s cock. He tries to focus on that thumb as a point of benign contact, tries not to work himself up further by dwelling on Sylvain’s tongue curling around the head of his cock as it laps up the precum weeping freely from the tip, but—

“Ah—- aahhh—“

He can’t control his body anymore. It wails and jerks and writhes under Sylvain’s touch, totally at the mercy of this delicious torture as that mouth works him over, hot and slick and utterly blissful. He had guessed it would be intense but he wasn’t prepared nearly enough for what Sylvain is doing to him, bringing him so quickly to the edge and yet—

And yet he can’t go further. He’s held there, suspended in time, breathless and ready to break, and not an inch further. It takes real effort to form his words, a vibrant blush spilling all the way down to his shoulders as he feels Sylvain take his cock down his throat and swallow.

“Syl— S—“ feebly he pushes at Sylvain’s head and shoulders. “Sylvain, stop.”

Sylvain jerks away and coughs. “What’s wrong?” he asks, voice raw and rough.

Felix shivers without the heat of Sylvain’s body so close to him; he reaches out blindly, hands shaking from chill and need. At the last moment he jerks them back to press the heels of his hands over his eyes and snarl “ _fuck_ ” through his teeth. “Sylvain,” he says, carefully and clearly. “It won’t let me— I can’t come.”

A pause. Sylvain clears his throat again. “Shit. Did I hurt you?”

“No, you were incredible,” too late to hold that back here, and he’ll have to contend with Sylvain’s ego if he ever gets this spell to go away, “but I think it’s— it’s a heat spell and I need—“

The words falter on his tongue. He doesn’t want to _need_ . He doesn’t want to _want_. He’s spent years carefully pruning these desires from his life, cauterizing his emotions to form himself into the perfect swordsman he wanted to be. And here they are again, like weeds, their roots shattering the foundation he so carefully carved of impassivity and stone.

Felix takes a deep breath to steel himself for the humiliation and says, quietly and deliberately:

“I need you to fuck me, Sylvain.”

The silence is deafening. The only thing Felix can hear, even with his heightened hearing, is the thunder of his own heart. He can’t even hear Sylvain breathing. Just before he breaks and steals a look to make sure he’s still there, Sylvain lets out a slow breath.

“All right. Do you have oil in here?”

“Only for swords and leather. I haven’t needed anything else in a while.” Too much of a hassle to work a finger up his ass when every day he needs to be ready to run and ride and fight. Unlike Sylvain, he doesn’t need sexual pleasure to function.

Except, of course, for right now.

Felix hisses at the thought, tail lashing against the bed, cock still hard and hot between his legs. He feels the bed shift, and the gravitational pull of Sylvain’s body on the mattress with him vanishes.

“Let me see it.”

“Top drawer on the desk,” Felix rasps, trying to stay still and stop writhing all over his own bed, starving for heat and friction. “Right side.”

The distinct slide of wood on wood catches his ears. Felix tilts a hand away from his eyes to watch Sylvain, silhouetted by the daylight bleeding through the window. With careful hands, he drips oil onto his fingers and rubs them together. His shirt is coming loose; Felix can see a couple of scratches along Sylvain’s neck. It reminds him of the hickeys he’d see there before the war, the feeble attempts of women to try to claim this man as their own.

He wants to cut Sylvain’s back to ribbons with his claws, leave silvery scars all over his body as a permanent mark of this sordid afternoon. He wants to sink his teeth into Sylvain’s shoulder. He wants to burrow inside of Sylvain’s skin like a parasite and never let anyone else ever touch him again.

Felix wrenches his head to the side to stare at the wall, breathing harshly, his tail thumping impatiently on the mattress. _Goddess._ If these possessive feelings last after the spell dissipates, he’s going to have to flee to Almyra like Claude.

There’s a rustle of clothing, and Felix hurts his neck looking back so quickly. Sylvain is stripping himself with grace and efficiency, shirt and pants and underclothes shed and discarded. His cock is— well, no wonder those women always got so loud. Felix can feel his face redden as he asks himself, _are you really sure you want that in you?_ and gets the resounding reply of _more than I want to wake up tomorrow morning._

Sylvain clears his throat. Guilty, Felix looks up at his face. He was expecting to see satisfaction there, ego and hunger alike, but instead it’s… blank. Careful.

“This is what you need?” he asks.

Yes. No. He thinks it might be, and he’ll die before he’ll admit it, but… he wants this. With Sylvain. Only with him.

“Do it,” Felix whispers. “We’ll never know if it will help if you don’t.”

Instinct - or the spell - tells him to be compliant as Sylvain strips him naked, even if it leaves him shivering to be so bare. When Sylvain sits with his back against the wall and coaxes him over with a curl of his fingers, he goes.

Sylvain eases Felix into his lap, wrapping him in an embrace. “I can keep you warm like this while I prep you,” he murmurs, running his hand down Felix’s spine, stroking his thumb along the base of Felix’s tail. He shivers, his back arching just a little as his tail sweeps to the side and curls around his thigh, leaving his taint easily accessible.

“Just do it.”

“I’m not gonna just _shove my cock_ in you. Be patient.”

Felix’s own erection twitches at the idea, and he strokes Sylvain’s cock to distract them both. It works, he thinks - Sylvain gasps and holds Felix a little tighter to him, his pulse racing. 

“Fuck,” he chokes. “Fe, you’re too tight.”

“I can handle it. Keep—“ he presses his face into Sylvain’s shoulder and breathes deeply, tasting something on the back of his tongue that stirs his blood even further. Pheromones, he realizes. He can _taste_ how much Sylvain wants him. “Keep going.”

It doesn’t hurt when Sylvain works a finger inside that ring of muscle, or when excess oil drops down between his cheeks when a second finger joins the first. It probably should, based on the astonished noises of the man underneath him, but he finds himself pliant again. Yielding easily to Sylvain’s touch, Felix shudders in his arms and drinks in the sensations of being touched - the feel, the scent, the sounds of Sylvain’s hitching moans every time Felix rubs his palm against the cock he’d pinned to Sylvain’s stomach - until it threatens to drown him.

“That’s enough,” he moans, adjusting his grip on Sylvain’s dick and raising himself higher on his knees. He sinks down a little too fast, choking as the breath is driven out of him, but his eyes roll back in his head.

_Oh._

He was right. It’s— a lot.

_“Seiros’ tits,”_ Sylvain chokes, his fingers digging into Felix’s hips. “Fuck. Fuck, you took— you took it so fast, are you—“

Felix braces his hands on Sylvain’s knees, leaning back and panting open-mouthed. He licks his lips and watches Sylvain watch the movement with eyes black with pupil.

“I _said—“_ he barely feels like he’s in his own body anymore, punch drunk and still tensing around the intrusion in delicious little spasms, “fuck me, Sylvain. Or was that a promise you didn’t intend to keep?”

The moment hovers between them, vibrant and charged as the seconds between the lightning flash and its thunder.

And then Sylvain is pulling out of Felix and manhandling him on to his elbows and knees, dumping more oil on his ass - _in_ his ass, he can feel it sliding inside his loose hole - until it drips down both his spine and his cock. Felix means to make a sound in irritation, a curse or a growl, but what comes out is a raw and animalistic yowl. He’s too far gone to care because Sylvain is gently coaxing his tail to the side again, curling the tip around his fingers as he slides his cock back in; not as fast as before but deeper, his other hand clinging to Felix’s hip. 

“Is that all?” Felix asks, pressing his forehead into his pillow. The words come out a little slurred. 

At least Sylvain sounds affected as well. “What?” he gasps back, high and breathless.

“Did I take it all?”

“Not yet. You could, though, couldn’t you?” Sylvain recovers, easing out and back in again, stretching Felix wider. “You _want_ to take my cock.”

Felix presses his face into the pillow and moans.

“Is that a yes?”

He nods.

A hand grabs his hair and pulls his head up, arching his back. “Say it. I need—“ Once again he can hear Sylvain swallow and it’s so much worse to remember how that mouth felt around his cock. “I need to hear it.”

“I want the whole damn thing, Sylvain,” he says in a rush. It’s not just the magic this time, and he’ll have to live with that knowledge, but in the moment— “I want more than you’ve given to any of those women. Every inch. Every drop.”

He gets the opposite. Sylvain freezes with a gasp, with a choked off groan, and the little sliver of Felix’s brain still working recalls how rarely he hears Sylvain through those thin walls at night. The rest of him is too upset to care.

Teeth bared, Felix shoots a furious look over his shoulder. “Sylvain—“

“I know,” his friend croaks, one hand between them gripping the base of his cock, skin flushed all the way down to his shoulders and so dark they’re almost drowning out the freckles there. “I know, I just— I need a second.”

“You need a what?”

“A second. I wasn’t— you—“ 

It’s not like Sylvain to be at a loss for words. He’s not looking at Felix either, staring at Felix’s back with unfocused eyes. As Felix watches he bites his lower lip and laughs bitterly.

“I’ll fuck you right, just give me a second. Don’t wanna come too fast.”

“You’d better,” Felix warns him, pushing himself back onto Sylvain’s cock. “And you’d better come inside me, too.”

For the second time in as many minutes, Sylvain moans. His eyes flutter closed before they snap open and lock with Felix’s, dark with lust and intent.

“Goddess, do you even know—“ Sylvain starts to ask before he seems to catch himself, hands gripping Felix’s ass and spreading his cheeks apart. “Never mind. Come here,” and he slides his cock inside again, deep and slow until Felix shoves his face into his pillow and bites down to stop from howling.

It’s so much. It’s so good. He feels like he came already, little sparks of pleasure running through his whole body, but the hunger for more only yawns wider.

“Syl—“ the syllable slides out of his mouth, half formed and wet like the drool on his pillow. “Did I take it all?”

Sylvain eases out. “Hmm?”

“I s— _ahh!”_ Unprepared, Felix shrieks with pleasure as Sylvain rams home inside him, thrusting at a devastating angle to hit that spot inside him that makes his eyes roll back in his head. It takes him five long seconds - during which Sylvain holds perfectly still - for him to remember how to speak. “Fuck you, was that on purpose?”

“Yeah. Not like you’re gonna let me do this again, might as well make the most of it.”

And that laugh, the one Sylvain makes when he knows his partner is using him, rings out in Felix’s bedroom. 

His heartbeat stumbles as hope and unease alike stir in Felix’s mind. “You—“

“Yeah, me.” A kiss is pressed between Felix’s shoulder blades as Sylvain rolls his hips; a deep, slow movement that makes Felix’s entire body light up and burn like a coaxing breath blown over coals. The question at the tip of his tongue melts as his lips part on a gasp.

His hips are pulled back - Goddess, sometimes he forgets how big Sylvain’s hands are compared to his - as Sylvain eases into a rhythm. It’s beyond good, so pleasurable it’s nearly painful, and Felix couldn’t hold back his cries without biting the blankets.

So he doesn’t.

Every breath, in and out, is punctuated by a noise; if it’s not the wet slap of skin on skin as Sylvain coaxes Felix’s back into a deeper arch so he can grind into that spot deep inside that makes Felix’s toes curl, it’s his own shuddering gasps and shocked, choking moans. He can’t even manage a word by now, not a “yes” or a “more” or a “harder” or Sylvain’s name. Just the susurration of half formed consonants as Sylvain fucks him like his life depends on it.

And in a way, it kind of does. If he has to spend any amount of time like this - oversensitive, needy, with this humiliatingly expressive body - Felix will not survive it. 

He might not survive this, either, especially not when Sylvain leans in to whisper in his large, furry ear.

“You like this, huh? You really do.” He huffs a soft, disbelieving laugh into the back of Felix’s neck. “Nice to let someone take care of you for a bit. Nice to— feel something this deep inside, right?”

Oh, goddess. He’s right. That’s the worst thing of all. Underneath that womanizing, foolish persona, Sylvain is smart, and he’s got Felix solved like a Reason equation.

“Bet you don’t fuck yourself like this often. Don’t like being sore in the morning.” Shit. “Know how I know?”

He shouldn’t look. He shouldn’t try to answer, not when Sylvain is still fucking him, his entire body shaking from the relentless waves of pleasure.

Felix twists his head to the side and looks at Sylvain.

“Because you’re so tight,” he rasps, “and you just keep— getting tighter around me like you don’t want me to ever leave.”

There’s a space at the end of his words that catches Felix’s dazed attention. Something else unsaid, unasked, hanging in the air between them. A bitter slant to Sylvain’s wolfish smile.

When Sylvain stops, Felix snarls at him.

“Easy, easy,” and he’s so calm again, like he’s soothing a spooked horse, “just gotta get some more oil. Don’t wanna hurt you.”

The response is automatic. “You won’t.”

“I might. Hold still.”

Sylvain bites his bottom lip as he eases out, pouring more oil on his cock and on Felix’s hole. And then once again, so quiet that Felix would have missed it;

“Goddess, you better still speak to me after this.”

“That’s my line,” he says. “You’re not the one with a tail.”

Startled brown eyes jump up to meet his own. “I like the tail,” as always he recovers quickly. He winds his fingers around the end again, stroking it into a shepherd’s crook. “It’s so expressive. And you’re hard to read sometimes.”

There’s a reason for that. Felix has always felt too much, and been too much, so he tries to bury his intensity under his training. Redirect it into something more useful than the sentiment of his youth. It figures Sylvain of all people would miss that about him.

He’s prepared this time for the heat and shape of Sylvain’s cock, but the renewed slick of the oil eases him in so quickly that he hits that spot inside Felix on the first try. He gasps accordingly, and gets another kiss on his shoulder as a reward.

“I told you. This, I know how to do.”

And, goddess, does he.

The entire bed jolts with their movement, rocking in counterpoint to the motion of Sylvain’s body as he holds Felix down. Even if he wasn’t, Felix doesn’t think he could move; the pleasure is so searing, so intense it’s difficult to think, and it’s all he can do to breathe through it as it thrums through him like music beaten from a bell.

“G— ah—“ The shattered remains of sentences are pushed out of him with every stroke of Sylvain’s cock inside, filling him up so deeply and completely there’s no room for anything else. “S—“

But there’s that space, and that laugh, and at the end of the day Felix isn’t truly jealous of the women Sylvain brings back to his room because all they do is take. It’s never Sylvain’s voice he hears on those nights, after all.

“Syl—“ the name is punched out of him on the next thrust, breaking across his bite-damp pillow. “Sylvain.”

The response is breathless, absent and delayed. An afterthought. “Yeah?”

Felix turns his head to the side, bracing his hand against the mattress to keep himself from being shoved further up the bed. “I’m— glad— it’s you.”

Sylvain’s brow furrows and he looks up from his work. “What?” he asks, the metaphorical mask finally slipping. Underneath it, he looks—

Hazy. Eager. Compromised. Just like Felix.

Felix isn’t the best at self expression. His emotions have been a knotted mess since Glenn died, resisting his feeble and irritated attempts to untangle them until he boxed them up and forgot about them. But he wants to make the effort, now, before the last threads of his coherency snap.

“I’m glad— it’s you. I wanted— you. Not the boar. Not Dorothea. You.”

This time, when Sylvain pauses, Felix lets him; doesn’t snarl and complain like he does so much of the time around the people he cares about. He just waits for his words to sink in.

“Oh,” Sylvain says softly. Then his shoulders jerk as he curls forward, biting his lip as he moans. “Oh, sh—shit, Felix, you—“

He feels the hot rush of Sylvain’s release inside him as Sylvain’s forehead hits Felix’s shoulder, his hips rocking a few more times against Felix's ass as he swears under his breath. All it takes is the brief touch of Sylvain’s hand against Felix’s cock - a dazed, desperate attempt to get him off as well - and Felix’s world goes white.

Any orgasm he’s had on his own or with a clumsy, useless partner has nothing on this; it hits his body like a blast of Thunder, shaking him down to the bones. A high, desperate noise tears out of his throat, a scream strung through violin-tight vocal chords, and he empties himself into Sylvain’s hand.

For a long, glorious minute, he feels nothing at all.

When Felix opens his eyes, he assumes the sparks in his vision are from the orgasm that is still wracking his body. When he blinks and they linger, he realizes it’s the spell, returning his body back to normal; and all at once, the exhaustion sinks in. Felix hits the bed with a huff, his limbs sliding out from underneath him.

Sylvain follows.

“You’re crushing me,” Felix wants to say. Or maybe “get up, you lazy ass, I’m not a pillow.” Perhaps even something like “if these sheets end up glued to my stomach because you decide to take a nap up there, that was the last time you’ll fuck anyone” but all that comes out is a sigh. Pathetic. Sylvain fucked the fight right out of him.

After a moment, Sylvain manages to pick himself up on his elbows and bear enough of his own weight to nuzzle the back of Felix’s sweaty neck.

“That’s the first time I’ve come inside anyone before,” he murmurs.

“Hmm,” Felix replies. He flexes his fingers to check they’re still there. He might miss the claws.

Silence and Sylvain both settle over Felix, and after a long moment the previously comforting heat grows sweltering. Anxious thoughts buzz in his mind like a swarm of locusts - he was too desperate, asked too much from Sylvain - and devour the peace. Felix shifts under Sylvain, grimacing as he feels Sylvain’s cock ease out of his hole and a hot trail of come drip down his skin.

Felix takes in a breath. Sylvain beats him to it.

“Do you really want me to leave?” he asks.

And it’s this that gives Felix pause; that Sylvain knows him, and likes him, and maybe he shouldn’t immediately ruin this. Yes, the sex was a favor to break a backfired spell, and yes it dug up a lot of buried feelings he hadn’t intended to ever act on but—

“No,” he rasps. “You can stay.”

He feels the smile spread across Sylvain’s face from where it’s pressed against his nape.

“I like you too, Felix,” is his only response. Once again, proving how well he knows Felix. For better or worse.

He didn’t think he could blush any harder than he already was, but Felix feels the tips of his ears redden. “Is that so,” he says hoarsely.

A few more kisses spread down Felix’s shoulders, up his neck to the crown of his head. Lazy little things, absent and affectionate. It doesn’t seem like these feelings are a revelation to Sylvain, either Felix’s or his own. Or at least he’s calmer about it than Felix thinks he should be.

There are things they should probably talk about; the nature of their relationship now, or how they’re going to describe this spell and its cure to their professor.

For now, this is enough; just having someone here, beside him in his bed and easing Felix onto his back to clean the mess off his sheets. It’s enough to know that he’s cared for, and safe, and himself again. It’s enough.

And if it’s not;

“You can stay,” Felix murmurs. “As long as you want.”

Sylvain pauses and blinks down at him “You sure?” A smile spreads across his face, fragile and cautious. “That could be a pretty long time.”

“Hm.” Closing his eyes, he lets out a sigh. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

  
  



End file.
